25 Days of Christmas
by brainyisthenewsxy
Summary: John just wants to spend time with Sherlock during the holidays, but Sherlock has a surprise for him.
1. Mistletoe

There was less than a month left until Christmas and all John wanted was to spend time with Sherlock.

John had tried everything to catch his boyfriend's attention-from baking him pies to looking for interesting cases for him- but nothing seemed to interest Sherlock; he seemed aloof during the last few weeks. No matter what John tried, Sherlock always seemed to avoid him by inventing silly excuses to leave the flat and not come home until very late at night. They hadn't spent more than 10 minutes together a day during the last weeks and the only kisses they'd had were mere pecks on the cheeks.

John was starting to lose hope in having a wonderful holiday with the person he loved the most in the world, so on December 1st, when he arrived to the flat after his shift at the hospital, he decided to stop trying to convince Sherlock through indirect remarks and presents to spend time with him. _If he wants to, he will_ said John to himself as he turned opened the door to the flat they shared.

When he entered, everything was dark. Not even Mrs. Hudson seemed to be home, since not a light was on, and not a single noise was audible. He found this very odd, since he and Sherlock had agreed to always leave at least one light on when they left the apartment, so that they wouldn't have to return to a completely empty and dark home after a long day of work.

John walked slowly into the flat, waiting for his eyes to get used to the poor lighting so he could find the switch on the wall on his left, when suddenly a deep voice said: _I've been expecting you. _It was him. John hadn't realized until that moment that he hadn't heard Sherlock's voice in a very long time.

Unexpectedly, a very dim light appeared in front of his eyes, followed by about a dozen more. They were candles that were illuminating the whole room in a mysterious yet cozy atmosphere. In the middle of the candles, a smiling Sherlock was standing, wearing nothing but his pajamas.

"What is all this?" asked John, a little suspicious of what Sherlock's intentions might have been.

"Oh, just a little surprise I've been planning," replied Sherlock with a smirk. John couldn't help it, but it made him blush to see Sherlock smile like that.

"So this is why you've been so distraught lately?"

"I'm sorry, love, I just wanted this to be a surprise for you."

Sherlock smiled as he walked toward John and hugged him tenderly. John smiled when he smelled Sherlock's scent and felt his curls on his face. Sherlock broke the embrace too soon, but before John could protest, he looked at the ceiling above them. John followed his glance and saw a piece of mistletoe hanging over them.

"Oh, no, you didn't," said John.

"Oh, yes, I did," replied Sherlock before placing a soft kiss on John's expecting lips.

John pressed his tongue against Sherlock's lips to ask for entrance and Sherlock opened his mouth eagerly. They tasted each other cautiously, as if this was their first kiss; John tasted like coffee and cream and Sherlock tasted like peppermint. All they could hear was the sound of their hearts beating as one, while they explored each other's mouths slowly and lovingly.

John thought this could've been the best kiss he ever had.


	2. Hot chocolate

John Watson woke up after a long night of sleep. He was awakened by the dim rays of sunlight that had found their way through the curtains and onto his face. As he stretched and yawned to shake off the last bits of dreams that still clouded his mind, he realized that Sherlock wasn't lying next to him. In fact he wasn't even in the room. John wondered where he might be, since Sherlock was not a morning person at all.

John stepped out of his bed and onto the cold wooden floor of 221B. He drowsily walked into the hall as the memories from the previous night started flooding his mind. He still couldn't believe that Sherlock had prepared all that just for him. It was the most romantic thing he had ever done-after that one first kiss, of course.

As John got closer to the kitchen, a familiar yet unrecognizable odor invaded his nostrils. It smelled somehow like a mixture of winter and love. When he entered the kitchen he was surprised when he saw Sherlock standing in front of the counter, wearing nothing but a white apron, mixing with some sort of stick a gooey, brown liquid inside one of his test tubes. The whole counter was filled with beakers and tubes containing the same maroon substance, but in different densities and shades. Sherlock was so immersed in the task at hand that he didn't realize John had entered the kitchen until he was standing right next to him.

"Good morning, John," said Sherlock cheerfully.

"Good morning," replied John, "may I ask what you're doing?"

"An experiment to determine the exact proportion of milk and cocoa to produce the perfect cup of hot chocolate," responded Sherlock, "but unfortunately I haven't been able to figure it out yet."

"Don't worry, love. It doesn't matter if it is not perfect"

"Yes it does. I need it to be perfect for you. You don't deserve anything less than the perfect cup of hot chocolate on this cold Saturday morning."

Suddenly, the top of the blender that Sherlock was using to create one of his multiple mixtures flew out of its place and all the contents of the blender splattered all over the kitchen and the two men standing in it. John chuckled, but Sherlock became very upset.

"No! Why does this have to happen to me? All I wanted was to give you the special Christmas you deserve! And THIS happens!" exclaimed Sherlock.

John couldn't help but let out a small giggle. "Calm down, love. It's alright."

"No, it's not alright. This is not the Christmas you deserve!"

"And what Christmas do I deserve, if I may ask?" inquired John, amused and at the same time moved by Sherlock's reaction.

"You deserve 25 days of surprises. 25 days in which I would prepare a special surprise for you before Christmas Eve."

"I thought you had only planned last night! Which was absolutely amazing, by the way."

"No! I had a surprise prepared for every day of the month! But now it's ruined. It was supposed to be special."

"But it IS special."

John smiled and removed with his finger a splatter of chocolate that was running down Sherlock's cheek. Then he licked it off his finger.

"It is absolutely delicious"

"Do you really think so?"

"Of course I do. This is the best hot chocolate that I've ever tasted. And you are the best boyfriend anyone could wish for."

John started planting kisses all over Sherlock's face, licking bits of chocolate with each one. He finally arrived to his lips and kissed him very hard. They both tasted like chocolate and John loved it. When they broke the kiss, they did so slowly; none of them wanted to stop, but there was a kitchen to clean before Mrs. Hudson arrived home and found the mess they had made. Before going off to clean up the kitchen, Sherlock hugged John very tightly and whispered into his hair, "I love you," to which John replied, "I love you, too". Sherlock kissed John ever so softly on the forehead and then they went off, hand in hand, to clean the kitchen.


	3. Snow

"John! John! Come over here! You have to see this!" Sherlock's screams woke up John from a vivid dream that somehow involved Santa Claus and a bag full of worms battling over the control of Christmas. _This seems familiar_ thought John as he drowsily got out of bed. Sherlock ran into the room, looking like a kid on Christmas morning that has just received his presents.

"Guess what?" said Sherlock enthusiastically.

"What?" answered John, who was still waking up.

"It's snowing," said Sherlock as he ran to the window and opened the curtains, revealing a cold morning in London, barely illuminated by a few gelid rays of sun that managed to make their way through the clouds. John walked to the window and poked his head through it, to discover tiny snowflakes falling from the sky. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"What is going on, Sherlock? Is it really snowing or am I still dreaming?"

"It really is snowing, John! My calculations only missed by a couple of hours!"

"Calculations? What calculations?"

"The ones I did to determine the date and time of the snowfall, of course! Those idiots at the forecast news were completely wrong about it! 'There will be no snow this year' they said. Those bastards can't even distinguish an altostratus from a cumulus. I can't believe they…"

"How could you possibly know about this, Sherlock? It's been decades since the last snowfall in London! It doesn't snow here, much less in December!"

"Well, it's obvious John! I just had to approximate the distance of the clouds from the ground, their water density and the speed of the wind during the last week or so to…"

"Ok, ok, I get it," John was staring at the window in awe. The snowflakes looked like fairy powder to him, millions of little pieces of heaven falling to the Earth, and forming a white layer upon Baker Street. "It really is a miracle," said John, mostly to himself.

"Well, John, according to mi estimates, the snow is only going to be here for a few more days, so what do you want to do with it?" asked Sherlock expectantly.

"I just want to get out there and touch it!" exclaimed John.

They ran through the flat, and rushed down the stairs towards the front door. Sherlock arrived there first (his long legs gave him a clear advantage in speed) and he opened the door and rushed through it, into the white layer covering the floor. John, however, stayed inside, just inside the door's frame. He was staring outside with an expression that Sherlock couldn't quite understand. Was it fear?

"What's wrong, John?"

"Nothing, I'll be out there in just a moment," answered John hesitantly. It didn't take Sherlock more than three second to figure out what was going through John's mind.

"You've never been to a snowfall before, have you?"

"Of course I have…"

"John…"

"Ok, I'll admit it. This is my first time. I'd never seen the snow before," confessed John, blushing with embarrassment. Sherlock giggled and walked back towards the door. He took John's hand, kissed him lightly on the lips and said, "Don't worry about it, dear. We'll do it together."

And so they did. They walked in unison out the door. John shivered when he felt the cold snow below his bare feet but hen he felt the little droplets of frozen water falling onto his head and face, he couldn't help but let out a cheerful, innocent cry of the purest kind of joy. He began taking the snow from the ground and throwing it into the air, dancing around and jumping like a small child. Sherlock grinned and stared at him for a while. Suddenly, John stopped his small celebration and exclaimed "_Nightmare Before Christmas_!"

"What?" asked Sherlock, astonished at the sudden change in John's attitude.

"_A Nightmare Before Christmas_? The movie about the skeleton who tries to steal Christmas? I had a dream about it last night," replied John enthusiastically.

"Never seen it," said Sherlock. Now it was his time to feel embarrassed.

"You've never seen that movie?! But it's a classic! We need to watch it. Together."

"Count on it," whispered Sherlock, giving John a wink.


	4. Snowman

"Hurry up, Sherlock. We need to catch that train!" John Watson's voice travelled through the cold air that filled 221B all the way to the kitchen, where Sherlock as growing some sort of bacteria on petri dishes. "No we don't. We can just stay here and cuddle and watch movies," replied Sherlock indifferently. "Sherlock! It's MY sister. It's been years since I last spoke to her, and she invited US, yes, you and me, to spend a few days at her house in the outskirts of London. She's not the best person in the world but she's not a bad person either. Maybe you'll even like her," said John, exasperated. Sherlock stopped working on his petri dishes, smiled and walked to his room to take a shower and get dressed. 30 minutes later, they were descending from a cabbie at the London train station, where they would take the train that would take them to their destination. They walked together, holding hands gently, each with a piece of luggage rolling behind them. John had told Sherlock to pack up for a day or two, but he secretly expected to be staying for at least a week. As the two lovers climbed onto the black and red train waiting for them at the station, John wondered what had made his sister give him that call the day before. He was cuddling with Sherlock on the couch, when the phone rang. John picked it up, thinking it was probably Greg looking for some guidance on a new and apparently unsolvable case, when a strangely familiar voice greeted him from the other side of the line. Harry said to him that she felt bad for all the years the two siblings had spent apart from each other, and asked him to spend some days at her house located in Cambridge. The request had left John speechless for a few minutes before he could mumble something that sounded like "sure" and hanged up the phone. Sherlock was definitely surprised when John told him what had happened and was a little bit reluctant at first; after all, meeting people wasn't exactly Sherlock's thing. Still, Sherlock would do anything to see John happy and if he had to meet his insufferable sister to make him happy, he would. The attendant who asked the couple for their train tickets suddenly brought John back to reality. They were guided to their seats at the back of the train and were offered a cup of tea as soon as they placed their suitcases on the compartments above their seats and sat on the comfy leather chairs. The train left the station right on time. Both Sherlock and John were nervous about the experience they were about to live; yet they did their best to hide it from each other. John fell asleep after a few minutes on the train, leaving Sherlock with nothing to do but stare out the window as he drank from his already cold cup of tea. The view, he had to admit, was absolutely stunning. Little remains from the snowstorm of the day before still lingered on the air around the train, in the form of tiny, immaculate snowflakes that fell from the skies like fairy dust. Just looking at the countryside covered in a delicate layer of white pureness left Sherlock completely breathless. He wondered whether he should wake up John so they could share the view, but he decided not to. John seemed so peaceful in his profound dream that Sherlock thought it would be a sin to wake him. After a little more than an hour, the train arrived at the Cambridge train station. The attendants started blowing their whistles to announce to the passengers of their arrival. Sherlock kissed John on the nose to wake him up. John opened his eyes sleepily, rose from his chair, helped Sherlock take down the suitcases from the compartment above them and followed his boyfriend across the hall and out of the train. He was nervous; the fact of seeing his sister after of such a long time was at the same time exciting and terrifying. Just as she promised, Harry was waiting for them just outside the gates. John barely recognized the blue Volvo their father had given Harry when she graduated from high school so many years ago; it was now rusty and old. John was utterly shocked when he saw the young woman descending from the driver's seat. She was taller than John, had long, brown hair, and light blue eyes. The years they had spent apart had almost made John forget how his sister looked like. She was almost unrecognizable. To John's amazement, she gave both him and Sherlock a warm smile when she saw them approaching the car. When they were got to the car, Harriet jumped into John's arms and hugged him like she used to when they were children. John made an effort to blink back the tears that were threatening to flood his eyes. When Harry finally let go of him, he was almost out of breath. John could barely compose himself enough to introduce his boyfriend. Harry shook his hand politely and helped them place the suitcases in the trunk of her car. The trip to Harry's house lasted for about an hour. Harry drove quickly, yet carefully, as she tried to make small talk with John. They talked during the whole trip about their lives; what they had been up to during the last few years. John told her everything about Sherlock and the adventures and cases they had solved together, and Harry told him about her divorce from her former partner, Clara. Sherlock stayed in silence during most of the way, only speaking when either sibling directly addressed him. They arrived at Harry's house at about 3 pm. Harry parked the car outside the house and helped them with their suitcases. The three of them followed the trail that Harry had swiped for them that same morning and that lead to the front door. About halfway from their destiny, John stopped to look at a small bump that sat beside the trail. It was a snowman. "Remember Jack?" asked Harry with a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. "Of course I remember him. Jack the Snowman." Jack the Snowman was their favorite character from a TV series John and Harry used to watch when they were children. It had always been their dream to build a snowman just like Jack, but unfortunately the lack of snow in London kept them from doing so. "Why did you do this?" asked John. "I wanted to surprise you. I thought you would like it," said Harry with a smirk. "I love it. Thank you." "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I would like to go inside before we all freeze to death," said Sherlock. The three of them laughed and walked inside the house. It was small, but it felt warm and cozy. Harry guided the lovers to a comfy room located at the end of a long hall. She then gave them some privacy so they could unpack, and told them she would prepare something to eat. Sherlock and John were alone at last. "Thank you for coming with me. I means a lot," admitted John, blushing. "You know I would do anything for you," replied Sherlock as he placed a soft kiss on John's mouth. "Something tells me this will be a nice holiday." "I'm sure it will be, love. Don't worry. Now, do you want to go grab something to eat?" "I'm starving" They left their room and walked towards the kitchen. 


	5. Sled

John Watson woke up in a strange home. He would have panicked if it weren't for Sherlock's arms, which were surrounding him in a warm embrace. It only took him a moment to remember where he was, and, most importantly, why he was there. Suddenly all the memories from the previous day came storming into his mind, as strongly as the snowstorm from the day before, which had forced Harriet, Sherlock, and John to stay inside the small house for the whole afternoon. Surprisingly for John, this hadn't been at all unpleasant. The three of them sat in the living room, drank hot chocolate (which was not nearly as good as Sherlock's but was still drinkable), and talked through the night. Well, he and Harry did, since Sherlock seemed unusually distraught and hadn't spoken much all day. John believed he was just feeling a little uncomfortable staying at a house that wasn't his own, which John completely understood, since he wasn't too comfortable about the situation either. But this was a new day, and John hoped that Sherlock would feel better and more at home after the night they had spent at Harry's house. John looked at the digital clock sitting beside him over the nightstand. It read 6:30 am. It might have been a little early for some, but John liked to drink a warm cup of tea and read the paper for a while before everyone else in the house woke up. It was one of the only quiet times he would get at home. Thus, he slipped out of bed managing not to wake up his sleeping partner; he put on his grey slippers and his brown jumper, and walked out of his room into the hallway. He found his way to the kitchen trying to avoid the creaky spots on the old wooden floor, to make the least noise possible. Sherlock was asleep, and he figured Harry would be too, since she wasn't exactly what you would call a morning person. So you could imagine the surprise he felt when upon entering the kitchen he found his sister Harriet sitting on the counter, drinking from a white cup with red stripes, which seemed to contain something similar to coffee. She was wearing sunglasses, which stroke John as odd, since the sun hadn't come up yet, and Harry was still wearing her nightgown. However, the younger sibling decided not to mention it, since he didn't wan to disrupt the peace that had reined the house since his arrival. "Morning, Harry," said John. "Oh, good morning John! I didn't see you, I'm so sorry. I just had a terrible night. I couldn't sleep at all!" replied Harry nervously. "Is Sherlock up? Would you like some breakfast? I can make you some bagels with cream cheese, of some eggs with h…" "No, Harry, Sherlock is not up yet, but thank you. Are you feeling all right? You seem a little…" "Yes, John, I'm alright, thanks. I'm just not feeling well today. You know, just an awful headache. I think I'm going to lie down for a bit and see if I can get some rest." "But what about the sled?" "What sled?" "Don't you remember? Last night we were planning to take the sled up the hill next to your house and roll down it. You know, have some winter fun." "Oh, yeah…"said Harry hesitantly, "I would love to go, but I'm really not feeling well today. You can go with Sherlock, I won't be mad. The sled is by the door." "Are you sure you don't want to come? We can wait…" "Yes, John, I'm sure. Now go and have some fun." Harry left her cup, still unfinished, in the sink and stormed out of the kitchen. She shut the door of her bedroom when she entered, which created a loud thumping noise that inevitably woke up Sherlock. The detective came rushing through the kitchen door a few moments later with an anxious look on his face. "John! Is everything all right? I heard a very loud noise and didn't see you in bed and I thought…" babbled Sherlock agitatedly. "Yes, dear. Everything is all right. It's just Harry. She's not feeling too well this morning so she said we could go ride on the sled by ourselves." "I'm sorry, love," mumbled Sherlock, "I know this was important for you, but if she doesn't feel right, we should let her rest. I'm sure she will feel better by lunch." "Yeah, you're probably right. Want some breakfast?" About an hour later, John and Sherlock were leaving Harriet's house, carrying a bright red sled. They headed toward the hill that sat a few meters away from Harry's house. As they walked, they conversed lightheartedly; John telling Sherlock how wonderful it was that they were together there, and Sherlock predicting what had happened in Harry's life since she had last spoken to John. He wasn't listening; he had stopped caring about his sister's past, to start worrying about her present. What is she doing with her life now? He wondered as they arrived at the bottom of the slope. It wasn't tall or steep, yet the couple felt like they could rest a few minutes before starting their hike up the top of the hill. They left the sled in the snow-covered ground beneath them and sat on the floor. They stared into each other's eyes, sharing a silence that only they understood. Sherlock smiled before pressing a gentle kiss upon John's lips. They parted their lips slowly, tenderly, and hugged before standing up again and grabbing the sled to begin their hike. They walked up the slope, which felt dangerously slippery, but they felt confident that if one of them fell, the other would catch him. The couple finally got to the top of the hill and stood for a moment, catching their breaths while enjoying the magnificent view that extended around them, further than what their eyes could see. They left the sled on the floor next to them and looked around, breathing in the aroma of Christmas and joy that seemed to emanate from the pine trees around them. John was breathless, not only for the hike, but also for the beauty that lied before him. He felt like he was standing in the middle of a fairy tale: luscious trees covered in snow seemed to flourish from the ground, and some mammals and birds were waking from their slumber to fill the forest with vibrant life. The snowflakes falling around him reminded him of fairy powder, which made him laugh like a child. He looked up to the sky, closed his dark blue eyes, and opened his mouth to let the white cold snowflakes fall into his mouth. Sherlock, however, was staring at something else. Through the windows of Harry's house, he could see a shadow walking around the different rooms; it seemed to be frantically looking for something. Sherlock suspected what it was, but he hadn't commented his worries to John. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin John's holiday for a silly suspicion. But Sherlock knew deep inside that it wasn't silly at all. John grabbed Sherlock's hand and positioned the sled so that it faced the slope. "Are you ready?" John asked, expectantly. "I'm ready when you are, love," replied Sherlock. They sat together on the sled; John in front, and Sherlock in the back, holding his lover's hips, more for affection than for support. They let out little screams of excitement and joy as the sled rolled down the slope, swiftly, against the wind and the snow. They did this again and again, for the whole morning, and most of the afternoon. They were so lost in their thoughts and so rapt in each other's eyes, that they only remembered Harry until the sun started to disappear behind the horizon. "We should go back. Harry must be worried by now," said John. "You're right. Let's go." They walked hand in hand, carrying the sled behind them, like they did with their luggage the day before at the train station. When they got to the house, they found that Harry was already locked up in her room. John tried to hide his disappointment, as he expected to say good night to his sister before going to sleep. Sherlock saw the sadness behind John's eyes, and hugged him tight. "We'll see her tomorrow. Now let's go get some sleep. You must be tired." And so they did. 


	6. Cider

Sherlock woke up early that morning. He noticed that John was still fast asleep beside him, probably exhausted from the day before. Carefully, he untangled himself from Johnt surprised to find Harry already in the kitchen. She was sitting on the counter, drinking a dark liquid, which Sherlock deduced to be coffee, from a red and white cup.

** said Sherlock. **

** answered Harry, ha ha ha Im going to bed, I**Have you been drinking, Harriet?t like to beat around the bush.

** said Harry. Sherlock noticed a small tick had appeared on her left eye, probably caused by nervousness. **

** t lie to me. The signs are everywhere. Your walking furtively around the house, hiding bottles inside the drawers, your mysterious trips to the kitchen in the middle of the nightm going to ask one last time before I go upstairs and get John.**No, please donIs nothing to be worried did you invite us? Really, I want the truth. It wasn

**Harry opened her mouth to say something but froze. She stared at the door behind Sherlock; absolute terror plastered on her face. Sherlock turned around slowly, to discover a still half-asleep John standing by the door. **

**asked John. **

Sherl, what is happening?t happen often. Although he wanted to tell John about his sistert want to ruin JohnDid you lie to me? Did you just call me to give you money? Were you using me?John, itjust let me explain,Enough, Harriet! I** Johnt answer, but her eyes involuntarily moved to one of the lower cabinets on John**You don** exclaimed John as he grabbed one of the bottles and threw it against the floor with all the strength he had. The bottle shattered into a million pieces against the cold marble floor and a transparent liquid came from beneath the broken glass. Harriet burst into tears and John stomped out of the kitchen. Sherlock followed him. **

**When they got to their room, John was silently packing his suitcase. He didn**You knew didn** Johnt bring himself to tell him the truth but he wasn**Doesn** said John, his voice a little steadier this time, **


End file.
